Work of Art
by fangirlu
Summary: A risqué photograph at a Soho art gallery prompts a rather interesting conversation. John/Joss


**A/N:** This quick little ficlet was written based on a picture prompt offered up by carolinagirl919. The picture is the cover image for this story, but imagine that it's a really large photograph. It's also cropped on the cover image, so imagine more headboard and rumbled bedcovers on each side. After not knowing exactly what direction I wanted to go in at first, I had a lot of fun writing this story once I got started.

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><p>"What do you think of this one?" Joss eyed the piece of artwork hanging on the gallery wall then cut her gaze to the man standing behind her.<p>

Looking even more handsome than usual in a blue button down shirt and a pair of black slacks, John tilted his dark head appraisingly. She could tell he was trying to think of something polite to say when one of his eyebrows hiked high into the air and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Well," he said slowly, throwing a quick glance at her before giving the object in question his attention again. "It's…interesting. I'll give it that."

"That's it?"

"It's a picture of an unmade bed with a couple of sets of handcuffs attached to the headboard, Joss."

"Look closer," she urged, hoping to get him to see what she saw.

He made a show of squinting hard in concentration. Finally, he smirked and lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "The photographer's kinky?"

Shaking her head, Joss rolled her eyes and stepped closer to the large, rectangular photograph. Slowly, she let her eyes roam the black and white image. Everything was perfect, from the black wood frame and the way it contrasted with the pristine white wall behind it to the muted track lighting that provided the perfect backdrop for the risqué subject matter.

"It doesn't move you at all, John?"

"Maybe," he said, stepping up behind her and slowly running the tip of his nose along the curve of her cheekbone. He was standing so close that she could feel his warmth begin to seep into her.

"John," she said in quiet warning. As much as she hated to admit it sometimes, the man had the power to make her lose her common sense even when they were in public.

"How's this?" His lips curled against her skin in a mischievous smile. He leaned close to her ear and said in a low purr that made Joss shiver, "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

And just like that, the rest of the patrons at the Soho gallery ceased to exist. It was just them here tonight, a private showing for two.

"Okay," she managed to croak out, cursing her decision to wear her hair up as she felt his breath fan lightly across the nape of her neck. She shuffled her feet, her black stiletto boots clicking sharply on the polished wood floor in an attempt to put a little space between them. He didn't give an inch. She should've known better. John never did like to play fair.

"Go on," he prodded, moving even closer.

"Well." She cleared her throat, trying with only some success to ignore the delicious feel of him pressed up against her. "Look at the play of shadow and light. The composition. The simplicity in the symmetry. It's _fascinating_." She turned her head and looked up at him. "You don't find it fascinating?"

He lowered his gaze to hers, his blue eyes twinkling playfully. "I find _you_ fascinating, Joss."

"John, we had a deal."

"We did." He glanced back at the photo and studied it intently. "I see...bondage, but I also see freedom. I see give and take. Implicit trust. Need. Desire." His eyes darkened as he looked at her again. "I see you naked in my bed, your skin contrasting beautifully against the sheets, trusting me completely even though you have zero control."

"Oh," she whispered after a long moment of silence, embarrassed that he'd reduced her to mono-syllabic nonsense. She could feel his knowing smile imprint itself against her cheek.

He'd one-upped her, and they both knew it.

His hands slid around her waist and even through the soft, red cashmere of her form-fitting sweater dress, she could feel the heat from his palms where they rested on her lower abdomen.

"Was that moving enough for you?"

Despite the fact that she was close to dissolving into a huge puddle of goo at his expensively-clad feet, one side of her mouth kicked up in delight. Resting her hands on top of his and linking their fingers together, she teased, "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Reese?"

The sound of his deep chuckle in her ear nearly made her moan aloud. "If I was _really_ trying to seduce you, detective, you'd be naked right now." He placed a soft kiss just beneath her earlobe, his touch tender and feather-light. "Remember when you said you wanted to see me in handcuffs?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly, the memory of those bold words causing a flush to steal across her face.

Sliding his hands from underneath hers, John wrapped his fingers around her wrists and gently pulled her arms behind her back. "Turnabout is fair play."

Joss sucked in a deep breath, equally startled and turned on by the calm pronouncement. She opened her mouth to speak, but her vocal cords were frozen with shock. Seeming to sense that he'd effectively just rendered her speechless, he placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her toward the exit.

"Where are we going?" she managed to choke out once they were outside and the brisk night air finally slapped some vocabulary into her.

"Home," he said, his low growl heavy with promise. "To make a little _art_ of our own."


End file.
